Redemption
by Ysmir the Indestructible
Summary: Dec 20th, 2011, an experimental mutation of the rabies virus was released into the water supply of the Eastern US by a group of radicals. Now, Jan 3rd, 2012, four survivors try to escape the city of New Xion with the help of two unlikely allies.
1. Prologue Ch I & II

Redemption

By:

Versonas

Part I

Angels Cry Too

Prologue

Silent Reaper

Light rain poured down from the heavens, soaking the abandoned pavement below. Cars and barricades lay strewn all around, long forgotten since the infections hit. A few of the poor souls that were taken by it stumble lazily around, slight memories drawing them to places they once frequented.

Under the harsh rain a small fight breaks out as two infected yell angry gibberish at each other, both instigated by a car they ran into and mistook for each other. Punches and kicks are thrown haphazardly, neither having any particular aim or intent, and one finally falls to the ground. Too tired to keep fighting, the one on the ground simply lays there as his attacker raises its foot into the air. With a crack, the infected stomps his opponent's head in.

Suddenly, a bullet flies silently through the air and blasts the winner's head to pieces. No other infected react, they neither heard the shot nor saw the flash. A man clad down in dark camouflage stalks quietly down the street, rain sliding down the sleek surfaces of his guns and armor. Five more silenced shots escape the barrel of his gun, reducing five more infected to headless idiots.

The man continues his silent stalk through the urban hell, stopping and hiding still whenever an infected notices him. Most simply turn and look his way, grunting when they are unable to see him. Those that do lay their eyes upon him he shoots before they can even process the thought.

A large building looms in the distance, and he can hear the screams of a horde of the infected in the distance. He stands, not fearing the now enraged infected near him. They simply run off towards the commotion, completely ignoring the armored soldier. He breaks into a light jog, screaming and flailing around like the infected around him. They accept his ruse and he follows along safely.

The group is abruptly stopped in the tracks as a car flies clear across the street, followed by a loud, baritone roar. He looks toward the direction of the roar and sees an enormous hulking creature looming towards him. Yet, it has no interest in him. Looking at him for only a moment, the behemoth lumbers off towards the group of infected, having now resumed their jog towards the larger horde.

Though good judgment and common sense screams not to follow, he pursues the group of infected.

Chapter I

Run Like Hell

Screams tore into the cold still of a dark night in the city. The pounding of feet on the pavement, a chase clearly in progress, rumbled as thousands ran along it. They yelled at the top of their lungs, flailing their arms around in the sky, as they chased down four unfortunate people.

A young man, perhaps only in his thirties, ran at a fast pace beside a younger woman, only around eighteen. Every now and then he'd turn around and fire a couple of shotgun shells into the large crowd pursuing them. An elderly man ran ahead of them, toting with him an assault-rifle. Beside, and slightly behind, him there ran another man, that was perhaps in his late twenties, whom carried an Israeli Uzi with him.

They ran madly towards an alleyway, hoping to find access to the apartment building nearby. No luck. As they turned a corner, a lumbering hulk of a monster smashed through one of the walls. He swung his enormous fists wildly at the four, trying to hit one of them with a certainly fatal blow. He cornered the shotgun holder and raised his fists into the air, yet a sudden burst of automatic gunfire hitting his back, stopping him.

"Francis!" yelled the elderly man, "Move the hell outta the way!"

Francis did a quick roll to his side to escape the crushing blow of the creature's fists. It instead turned attention to the old man, launching into a full, raging charge. It swung its fists towards him, just barely missing his face, and instead slamming them through a brick wall.

The many angry chasers flooded the alleyway, attempting to overrun the panicked four. Their heads suddenly began to explode into clouds of gore, a rain of 9mm bullets flowing down upon them. The girl had crawled up a nearby ladder on the side of the building and was rapidly firing two Colt M1911 9mms down on the horde.

"Bill! Francis! Louis! This way!" she yelled.

"There's a TANK down here, Zoey!" yelled the younger man, apparently Louis.

"I gotcha covered!" yelled Zoey.

Bill, Louis, and Francis made a mad dash for the ladder, scrambling up it as quickly as possible. The behemoth monster below became angry at this. It ripped a chunk of cement from out of the ground and tossed it towards Francis, taking off part of the staircase past the ladder. Seeing that this did nothing, it launched one of its giant hands up and grabbed hold of the metal stairs. Being too big to fit on it, the Tank began to climb them as if it was an enormous ladder. Throwing one hand above the other, each time trying to grab one of the unfortunate four, it slowly made its way up. The stairs, however, began slowly ripping out of the wall.

Zoey began to panic as she saw one of its enormous hands reach for her. She shot at it, hoping it might fall off, but her pistols were quite useless. With a monstrous roar, it lunged for her. It missed however, instead tearing the stairs completely out of the wall. With a last hop into the air, Zoey yelled for her friends.

"Francis!!" she screamed, reaching her right hand out to him.

With nearly reflex-like speed, he grabbed hold of her hand before she took a deadly plunge. The behemoth creature plummeted to its death, buried under the weight of the fire-escape. The horde, with no prey in sight to chase, simply began sauntering aimlessly in all directions.

The soldier, clad in dark urban-camo, slowed down to a stop from his sprint, seeing that the infected around him had done the same. He quickly slipped off into a nearby alleyway, lowering down to a silent stalk. He picked off infected that stood in his path, not wanting to chance their noticing him. A sudden click brought dread into his chest. That one click no one with a gun ever wants to hear.

"Fucking jam…" he muttered.

Deftly and quietly, he slipped it around to his back and pulled out a silenced .45 tactical pistol. He once again began picking off the few infected standing between him and the exit of the alleyway.

A screech in the air once more erupted a sense of dread in him. He scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign of the hood-wearing assailant. Not seeing it, he slowly backed into a doorway and against a door. Heart pumping, adrenaline rushing, and eyes flicking all around in search, he gripped his trusty pistol tightly. Finally he could hear the light scraping of fingernails, grown out by mutation for tearing apart prey, on the cement.

A hooded face peered around the corner, trying to see where he'd gone to. With his breath held the soldier waited until it turned its face away. A silent shot tore through the creature's head. He sighed with relief.

"Little bugger…" he whispered under his breath.

Once more he slowly stalked towards the end of the alley. Turning a corner the soldier saw he was confronted with a tall wood fence. Nervous about making any noise he hopped up, quietly, grabbed hold of the top and hoisted himself over. He landed quietly on a van parked on the other side, sliding off the back onto the ground.

Looking around he saw the bodies of around thirty or more infected. They seemed to originate from the apartment buildings in front of him.

Before he could decide whether to investigate or not he heard gunfire not too far away. Standing, he jogged off towards it.

"Watch out for that damned car!" Bill yelled.

A stray bullet intended for the head of an infected dug deep into the hull of said car, instantly arousing an ear piercing alarm into the air.

"Oh hell… this is gonna get bad." muttered Louis.

A scream sounded off in the distance as a large group of the infected began to pour from all directions. The four clustered together, each facing a different direction, two crouched down, readying themselves for the impending horde.

Chapter II

Cry, Cry, Cry…

From all around scrambled the infected, angrily trying to overtake the small group of immunes that had attracted them with the alarm. Gunshots sounded off as their heads began to explode.

"Reloading!" yelled Louis and Bill, almost in sync. Just as they started the process Zoey and Francis began firing their weapons into the charging mob before them, taking down as many as possible at a time. Then, like clockwork, they yelled the same phrase and the other two took over.

Slowly the infected began to overtake them, sheer numbers overwhelming the survivor's ability to fend them off. An idea popped into Zoey's head at the last moment. She produced a plastic tube from her coat pocket and flipped a switch on the end of it. With flashes and beeps, the fire alarm on the end came to life.

"Fire in the hole!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, flinging the flashing explosive into the air.

Instantly the infected turned their attention to the new flashing distraction, charging toward it and ignoring the survivors altogether. When it nailed the ground the infected gathered around it, swinging their arms wildly at the flashing light.

As the flashes and beeps increased in speed the survivors ducked down and covered their heads…

The soldier carried along his careful pace until an explosion rocked the ground and a scream pierced the air. He instinctually dove towards an overturned car and took cover.

"Fu- What the bloody hell am _I_ doing?…"

He hopped up, spun around, vaulted over the car and ran off toward the explosion. What he saw horrified him…

The bomb went off and turned all the infected around it to a cloud of mush. Yet it also upset an infected that nobody wanted to mess with. A screaming, clearly angry, scantly clad young woman ran towards the four survivors. They shot at her in an attempt to put her down, but she was far too resilient. With only a few simple swipes, each survivor was knocked to the ground.

They figured their time was up and just lay still on the ground. Only hoping for a miracle, the four survivors prayed.

Zoey then saw something out of the corner of her eye, what appeared to be a moving shadow. A man clad down in blackout urban-camo and decked out in all sorts of combat tech-gear walked onto the scene. Scanning the area, his eyes finally set on the crying girl in the midst of the group. That was the last thing Zoey saw before losing consciousness.

The soldier quietly surveyed the scene, slowly approaching the crying girl. He couldn't discern whether it was the girl or the horde that had done all this. On his briefing before deployment, he'd not been informed of any infected like this.

He could hear her sniffle and felt moderately sorry for her. As he looked at her she turned her head, suddenly aware of him. A low growl resounded from her as he tiptoed over. Trying to calm her down he broke eye contact and simply stared at the ground as he advanced towards the fallen survivors.

One of the fallen four suddenly produced a pistol and aimed it towards the soldier, thinking him an attacking infected. Then, seeing a more pressing threat, he aimed further up. With five quick shots he struck a smoker, poised to nab the soldier, square in the forehead.

The girl, startled by the sudden noise, leapt to her feet and rushed the soldier. He didn't have time to react. With one simple swipe, she clawed him in the gut and knocked him to the ground…


	2. Vicodin, Good for the Soul

Chapter III

Vicodin, Good for the Soul

The soldier simply lay there, stunned by the force that had winded him. This pale, lanky, crying young girl seemed no threat at all to him. Yet, with almost no effort, she'd just shredded completely through his carbon-mesh armor and thrown him to the ground. So he just lay there, breathing raggedly as he attempted to regain his composure. He knew he was bleeding, and certainly had no intention of just laying there, waiting to die.

Slowly he brought his elbows up under his shoulders and leaned his weight over on them. Propping himself up on his right elbow he then lifted his left arm up and planted his left palm on the ground, leveraging himself up to a sitting position. He began running ideas through his mind, thinking of a way to get himself out of this mess.

There was always the possibility that he could just sneak slowly by her. Yet, he'd been fighting alone for quite sometime now and he desperately needed the aid of others. So, if possible, he wanted to find a way to keep the other four alive. They seemed very close to death, and he was certain they would indeed die without his help.

The girl just in front of him only continued to cry as he ran these thoughts through his mind. She wailed with a horrible anguish, as though pain were running through her body like blood in her veins. Her screams and screeches rang through the cold night air.

'_Why does she cry like that?'_ he pondered. Then, looking her over, he spotted a deep gash along her left thigh. It was fresh, still bleeding, and a little bit charred. He guessed that whatever explosion he'd heard had caused the wound, and probably angered her.

'_Hold on a sec…'_ he began to contemplate an idea, _'I wonder… maybe, but it's a fuckin long shot.'_

He leaned up just slightly more and reached around to the back of his supply belt. Feeling around for a moment he finally felt what he was searching for. Slowly he pulled out a small bottle of military-issue, extra-strength vicodin. In his division of the Spec-Ops, these were standard issue to all operatives, and mandatory equipment for all field assignments. They were made strong enough to completely eliminate any and all feeling from even a lost limb.

'_God, if you're up there, please let this work…'_ he said, a quick prayer for luck.

With a deep breath, he made a short, high whistle. The girl heard and spun her head around to face him.

It hurt, so bad. Everything hurt, every single feeling and sensation she felt hurt. The new gash on her leg was even worse. A deep, ragged tear in her thin thigh, still bleeding, had reached all the way to her muscle. It hurt so bad, she cried even harder. Through her wails the girl heard an unexpected, high pitched noise.

It was him, the tall thing in black. She turned to face him and growled, angry that he'd disturbed her pity party.

The small, pale girl began to growl at the soldier. He wanted so badly to just forget his idea and try to sneak around her. Yet he couldn't manage to talk himself out of it. He needed their help as much as they now needed his, and he knew it. So, with one last, deep breath, he threw the small bottle of vicodin at the growling girl.

It nailed her spot between the eyes, stunning her for a moment. For an instant he was sure she would leap to her feet, mad as hell, and tear him to pieces. Yet, she didn't. only sat there still growling, but now looking at the little bottle laying on the ground.

Gingerly she picked it up and observed it, twisting it around a couple of times in front of her, trying to make out anything she could of it. After a minute or two she gave up and, flustered and angry, looked back toward the soldier.

He was still very much surprised that his idea had even worked this far, but realized very quickly that he needed to think fast. With only a second or two of thought into it, the soldier opened his mouth and tilted his head back slightly. He then began to make a shaking motion over his mouth with his left hand, the same hand the girl was holding the bottle in.

For a moment she only looked at him, her growl all but subsided, then turned her gaze to look at the bottle. The thoughts slowly began to connect in her head as she compared the images. The girl brought the bottle over her own mouth and tried shaking it. Nothing happened.

The soldier saw this and froze up. In his haste, he hadn't considered that she'd need to open it first. Before he actually thought about it, he began making a twisting motion over his right hand with his left. She once more began to compare images, looking from him to the bottle in her hand. Then, deciding to try it, she wrapped her other hand around the top of the bottle and began trying to twist.

At first she was twisting the wrong way and couldn't open it, but the razor sharp nails on her fingers cut into the bottle and finally tore off the top of it. She then opened her mouth and tried the first motion again, dumping the contents of the bottle into her mouth.

She swallowed four tan colored pills, the effects immediately taking hold of her. The soldier watched as the small girl began to visibly relax, and finally lost any interest in him.

With a grunt of pain, he laboriously picked himself up off the ground. The entirety of his idea, that was nothing short of a miracle for having worked, only took up about two minutes. He looked around very quickly, scanning the area for any possible threat. Satisfied he made his way over to the biker and hefted him onto his shoulder.

He was fairly heavy but he figured he could manage him. Trudging stiffly over to the older man, he lifted him onto his other shoulder. He looked around for any sign of a safe place to carry them to and spotted a sign, painted with black spray-paint, on the wall of a subway entrance.

"God, please…" he muttered and began to jog over towards it.

Much to his surprise there were no infected in the room below the stairs. He looked the area over carefully, finally spotting a steel door painted red. He ran towards it and kicked it open, laying the two carefully on the ground. The soldier then jogged back outside for the other two.

Suddenly a striking pain shot through him from his stomach. He stumbled a few steps and looked down at the gash across his abdomen. It had torn open further as he was carrying the first two down to the safe-house. Blood was now spilling out freely from the jagged wound, his guts threatening to spill out with it. He knew time was limited so he quickly hefted the young black man onto his shoulder, straining slightly to bear the pain under his weight. He shuffled groggily over to the young girl and bent down to try and lift her also.

Another sudden shot of pain told him that he was done, that he'd have to leave her, and with sadness he turned back around and ran towards the safe-house. Once he'd made it in he collapsed on the ground. Tears began to form, threatening to spill over, from the combined stress of the pain and guilt.

As the soldier began to sit back up to shut the door, a bewildering sight struck him. The pale girl that had attacked him was dragging the uninfected girl towards him. It didn't look like she'd killed her, so he didn't dare to try and stop her. No, he just sat there and watched her drag the girl into the safe-house.

When she'd dragged her far enough in, the girl turned to face him. A look of sorrow seemed to wash across her cut and battered face before she turned her gaze away. With what seemed like anguish, the girl walked back out of the room and sat down on the floor, placed her face in her hands, and began to sob.

"Hey!" he called to her with a hoarse voice, "what you sit'n out there for?"

Startled, she looked around at him.

"Well?! Get your ass in here!" he yelled, not quite sure if she understood him.

The girl stood up slowly, cautiously watching him, and walked back into the room…


	3. Bushed

**Chapter IV**

**Bushed**

"_**Hey, Zoey! You almost ready, girl?" called out a young, black woman. She softly beat the door with her fore knuckle, calling out again.**_

"_**Yeah, yeah! I'll be out in a sec, Tesia!" Zoey replied, angrily pulling a tight hair band onto her pony tail. With one final jerk, she was satisfied that it was tight enough. Taking one last look in the mirror, she straightened out her sleek, black satin dress, taking in a full look at herself. It was a big night tonight, and she wasn't going to mess it up by looking bad.**_

"_**Girl, I thought you'd gotten lost in yo own eyes or somethin!" Tesia growled in mock-anger.**_

"_**Oh, you know me…" Zoey replied with a flick of her wrist.**_

"_**Mm mm, that Zach sho is lucky tonight!" Tesia said as she walked toward the door.**_

"_**Wh- What do ya mean?" Zoey replied, a blush fiercely crossing her face.**_

"_**Well," Tesia started, grabbing her purse and opening the dorm room door, "lets just say you never dress up like this for anyone else…"**_

_**Zoey followed suit, grabbing her tiny handbag and walking out the door. The blush that rode madly across her face deepened a little as she thought of him, and of herself with him…**_

"_**Zoey? Zoey! Snap out of it, girl!" Tesia yelled, snapping her fingers in front of Zoey's face. She'd completely drifted off into daydreaming throughout the entire ride. Tesia always drove them both, anywhere they went. It was rare that she daydreamed during a ride with her childhood friend.**_

"_**Sorry, guess I drifted off. Late night, last night…" Zoey replied with a chuckle.**_

"_**Mmhm… Well, just make sure it don't show through your dress, hun." Tesia sighed, an evil smirk on her face.**_

_**Tesia turned off the engine and they both got out of the small, four door Lincoln Town Car. With a few last straightening, fidgety brushes, Zoey nervously stroked her dress and walked up to the door. She only knocked once before it swung slowly backward, clearly forced open none too long ago.**_

_**People always told her that horror movies and scary books would never prepare one for the violence of true life, but Zoey had always just brushed it off as silliness. Yet, what she saw in Zach's house that night scarred her forever.**_

_**Blood was smeared all across the wall, entire pools of it on the floor. Bits and pieces of torn flesh, teeth and even meaty bone littered the living room. Slowly, almost as if entranced, she stepped into the house. Short, small tiptoes brought her closer and closer to the grisly scene laid out before her. Only a few feet into the house, a sound suddenly caught her ear. It was like someone ripping pieces of cloth, then a wet sound like someone smacking on chewing gum. Low, rumbling growls rolled from the dining room, which sat around a corner.**_

_**Slowly Zoey turned the corner, scared out of her mind but entranced by the sheer unreality of it all. What she saw would never leave her mind, even on her deathbed…**_

* * *

"**Hey.." came an almost ghostly voice. It beat through Zoey's head like a sickness, just begging her to notice it. "Hey… you ok?…" It rang, and rang, and rang. Someone was calling to her.**

"**Mmm…" she groaned, turning slightly in her daze. "Zz… Za- Zach?…" Zoey grumbled, confused to what she was hearing.**

"**Hey, you alright there? Can you hear me?" It was that voice again. Calm and soothing, like his. But it had an edge to it, tragedy and romance, a Shakespearean type of quality in its tone, "Come on, kid, wake up!"**

**

* * *

**

The soldier shook her lightly. Only enough he hoped it would jar her awake, but not enough to hurt her further. She was completely out of it, just like the others. But her condition was starting to worry him. Only a few hours after he'd dragged them in, the young, uninfected girl started to develop a fever. Her head was just burning up with it, nearly hot to the touch.

**He'd poured some water from his portable bladder, wet a piece of cloth and placed it on her head, but it was doing no good. He was sure she was an immune, so it couldn't be the infection setting in. He just prayed she could make it.**

"**Father bless me, Father bless this child…" he muttered, changing the dressing he'd put on her wounds.**

**A sudden jolt of pain told him that his own wounds needed attention, and soon. With a practiced hand he finished up her dressings, laid back against a wall and relaxed a little. Looking down at his abdomen he could see the bloodstained bandages wrapped around him. They were crude field dressing, but they'd have to do until he could find an evac.**

"**They sure didn't mention this shit in the brochures…" he muttered, wincing at the pain crawling along his stomach, "Now I know why you're always crying…"**

**He turned to the other girl, the infected, that had sat herself in forced isolation on the other side of the room. She was just hunched over there, sobbing like before, but with a lot less hollowness to her voice.**

"**Hey, how's about you let me take a look at your leg, eh?" the soldier asked towards her, not really expecting her to reply.**

**Indeed she did not, so he slowly stood himself up and walked over to her. With a tumble, he sat himself down, cross-legged, beside her. He could hear her growling lightly and menacingly toward him, her lips snarled slightly.**

"**Ah, stow it." he huffed, turning himself to face her, "If you were gonna kill me, you'd have done it already. Now, let me see that leg…"**

**The girl seemed to relax a little, but he could still feel the tension around her, on her. It practically permeated her very aura. He knew it wouldn't be a good idea to examine it too closely, so he just glanced it over. It was indeed a gash, a charred one at that, likely caused from a piece of metal in a makeshift bomb. It looked awfully painful, and he grimaced as he ran his right hand along the edge of it.**

"**You sure took a doozy, there." he chuckled lightly, "At this point, it's probably best we both just sleep… What do ya think? You bushed?"**

**She just stared blankly back at him, her piercing red eyes shining in the fluorescent lighting of the safe room. So, he stood back up and walked to the middle of the room. With a sigh and a grunt, he lowered himself down into a sitting position, hunched his knees up, and cradled his head in his arms. In only a few minutes, he fell quite asleep.**


End file.
